


Declarations of Another Kind

by stillskies



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillskies/pseuds/stillskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki ponders what he doesn't like about Doumeki. The only answer he can come up with is everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declarations of Another Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 03-08-2007

“What exactly don’t you like about Doumeki-kun?”

The question echoes in his mind for weeks after, and he has still yet to come up with an answer. Had the question been posed at the beginning of their tenuous partnership, one that Watanuki is still very much against, he would have presented Yuuko with a list longer than he is tall.

Watanuki reaches a tentative hand up to his left eye, running a finger slowly over the lid. He catches a glimpse of burnished topaz in the reflection of the knife, a sight that is more familiar than it should be, considering the sixteen years he spent seeing two vivid blue ones.

He sighs and continues preparing the next day’s lunches. Doumeki has requested domburimono, and even though he does not take orders, he is preparing the meal anyway. He tells himself it is because domburimono is something he hasn’t had in a while, and he is content with the lie.

There are many things he does not like about Doumeki, he decides. After all, how can he like someone who steals Himawari’s attention from him? That in and of itself was cause for dislike.

He doesn’t like how Doumeki is good at everything he does. He knows how hard the other boy practices, but everything seems to come to him with such ease while Watanuki has to struggle with everything in order to be passable.

He can’t stand how Doumeki always saves him. He doesn’t need to be saved like some helpless woman every time a spirit threatens him. He has gotten along fine without the help before, but it seems that his companion either doesn’t understand that, or doesn’t care. Watanuki suspects the latter.

He doesn’t like the fact that Doumeki will sacrifice just about anything to keep him safe. There is no doubt in his mind that, were it required, Doumeki would sacrifice his own life to keep him alive.

The thought of losing Doumeki, he discovers, is what he dislikes the most. It scares him, and Watanuki does not like it. Granted, there are a complex myriad of emotions that Doumeki evokes in him that he doesn’t like, but fear is at the top of the list.

Watanuki carefully packs away their lunches in the bentou boxes and stores them in his tiny fridge. He leaves the kitchen and enters the front room. There isn’t anything to be done; his small apartment is tidy, his homework is done. 

He glances at the small clock on the mantle. It reads half past eight.

Watanuki sighs. It is too early for him to retire to his room, and it is not like he can kill time watching television. He looks out the window and sees the faded colors of sunset. He decides to take a walk.

He leaves the apartment, careful to lock the door behind him, and picks a direction at random. There is no particular place he wishes to go, but as he looks around in the approaching twilight, the scenery mocks him. He knows this path very well. He sighs and continues on.

A few minutes later, the gate of the Doumeki family shrine appears. He hovers in front of the gate, unsure whether enter. A minute passes, and Watanuki decides to leave.

He is walking away when a familiar voice stops him. “Oi!”

Watanuki turns around, eyes narrow and fists clenched at his sides. “How many times to do I have to tell you? My name is not ‘oi!’” he spits.

Doumeki rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. “Does that woman have a job for us?” he asks, not bothering to acknowledge Watanuki’s statement..

Watanuki blinks. “No,” he says.

“Is there a spirit bothering you?”

“No,” Watanuki answers.

Doumeki frowns. “Then why are you here?” he inquires.

Watanuki feels his cheeks heat up. “I was just taking a walk,” he replies, fighting to keep his voice normal.

“Hn,” is Doumeki’s reply.

They stand there, staring at each other, before Watanuki starts to fidget. “I should get home,” he says to break the silence.

“You should,” Doumeki agrees.

“Well,” Watanuki begin, suddenly feeling awkward. “I’ll see you at school.”

Doumeki nods in agreement, and Watanuki turns and starts walking away. He hasn’t walked more than a meter when he feels someone fall into step beside him. He knows without turning that it is Doumeki.

“I don’t need an escort, you know,” he states because it is expected.

“I’m not missing lunch tomorrow because you got yourself eaten like an idiot,” Doumeki replies, following the script.

Watanuki makes an annoyed noise, but stays silent. This is another thing he doesn’t like about Doumeki, he decides. He doesn’t like how complacent, how willing to follow along with the same routine, his companion is. He wishes that Doumeki will speak, tell him what is on his mind, instead of saying things that are provoking and full of meaning that Watanuki doesn’t quite understand.

Doumeki’s arm brushes Watanuki’s, and the blush that had faded returns full force. Watanuki brushes his arm back against Doumeki’s deliberately. Doumeki seems to take this is a challenge and brushes against him again.

By the time they reach Watanuki’s apartment, the sides of their hands are touching. They walk up the stairs and stop in front of his door.

Something is keeping Watanuki from moving, and he wonders if Doumeki can move, or if it’s affecting them both. 

“Well,” Watanuki speaks, “don’t expect me to thank you for walking me home.”

Doumeki’s mouth quirks in a tiny smile. “I changed my mind,” he says.

Watanuki blinks, confused. “Changed your mind about what?” he asks.

Doumeki is leaning in, and Watanuki’s back is against the door. Their lips are a mere millimeter apart when Doumeki speaks. “I want udon for lunch.” 

Each word brushes against his lips, and Watanuki feels flushed and a pang of anticipation. “I already made lunch,” he retorts weakly. “And I don’t take orders, you jerk!”

Doumeki smirks and pulls back, leaving Watanuki leaning against his door with the ghost of lips caressing his.


End file.
